


rewrite the ending

by yallbitter



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, The Mechanisms Were Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist's College | University Band, good communication AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yallbitter/pseuds/yallbitter
Summary: Jon is a lonely man by nature. Can an accidental meeting at pride give him the chance to make a connection that matters?
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 111





	rewrite the ending

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to my amazing bf for beta-ing this i love u bby

"SASHA! MARTO! TODAY'S THE DAY!" Tim tore into the archives like a crazy person, an over stuffed backpack on his shoulders and a wide, toothy grin on his face."Are you excited? Are you  ready to rumble?"

Sasha grinned back. His enthusiasm was infectious, if a little ridiculous at times. 

"Yes, Tim, I'm ready. I've got everything laid out  at home.  Where we're all going to get ready. Which is why I told you to bring everything you needed for this afternoon there yesterday, so you didn't need to bring a bag."

Martin nodded, still a little unsure and shy around his new friends-slash-coworkers. "She did say that, Tim." 

Tim reached out and wrapped an arm around Martins shoulder as he chuckled.

"I know, I know. And I did! But on the way here i saw more stuff that I just HAD to have so...."

At that moment, Jon came into the break room and cleared his throat stiffly. 

"You may have the day off, today. I've got something on this afternoon and it doesn't seem fair to keep you all here. That's all, thank you." 

He left just as quietly as he came, and the assistants all looked at eachother in surprise. 

"The whole day? We've been here a week and he's already given us a whole day off! Maybe he's not as bad as we thought, Sash!"

"I wonder what he's got on." Mused Sasha, tugging absently at her earring.

"Maybe he's going to pride as well?"

"Doubt it;" said Martin. "He doesn't seem the type to want to go to a big crowd like that."

Tim sat up from where he was lying on the desk so abruptly that he hit his head on his little desk lamp.

"Ohhhhh what if he's going as a heckler? I mean if he was homophobic it'd explain why he has it out for poor Martini here!" 

The discussion devolved into an argument about the institutes hiring policy, which continued all the way to Sasha's flat.

"Look, the fact is that there is not one single cishet working here. Not. One. It's not even me guessing, it's just true!" 

"There's exceptions to every rule- careful, Martin, the glitters about to fall out of the- yeah you got it- Jon's probably the only cishet in the Whole Insititute!" 

"Tim, in the kindest way possible, you're full of shit. Pass me that flag, would you? The other- yes Tim, I, a bi enby want to wear the gay men's flag around my neck."

Tim rolled his eyes and threw her the extra blue, pink and purple flag, passing Martin the blue one.

"Thanks, Tim." 

All three of them had gone all out, and they made a hell of a trio as the walked downstairs.

Tim was covered head to toe in blue, pink and purple. His hair was full of glitter, and the shiny new earrings sparkled in the sun. 

Sasha had a bi flag around her neck and a shirt patterned with non-binary symbols. Her hair was also full of glitter, and face paint made complex designs on her cheeks.

Even Martin had got in on the action, carefully painting trans flags on his cheeks and putting rainbow glitter on his eyelids. The blue-striped flag wrapped around his shoulders, and, at Sasha's insistence, he had glitter in his hair.

They joined the throng of people in the streets of London, chanting and singing and celebrating together. They were swept away in the colour and the joy and the pride, and when Jon unexpectedly appeared in front of them, they almost didn't notice.

"Is that....JON! HEY, JON! OVER HERE!" Tim shouted over the crowd and a man in a waistcoat with copious amounts of eyeliner turned around.

"That can't be-" Sasha started.

"Is that-" Martin spoke at the same time.

"That's JON!" They called out in unison, and even as he tried to duck away, Tim was next to him, gripping him by the shoulder.

"We didn't expect to see YOU here, boss! What are you wearing?" Tim was grinning ear to ear, taking in the heavy eyeliner and nail polish that looked so out of place on his dour, grouchy boss. He had to admit, it suited him.

"Ah. Hello, Tim, Sasha, Martin. I....wasn't expecting to run into you. This is terribly unprofessional, I do apologise-" Jon was shuffling in the spot and looking in every direction that wasn't theirs, supremely uncomfortable. 

"Oh shush, don't apologise! We're just on our way to see some band perform, come with us!" 

"Ye- yeah!" Martin piped up. "It'll be f-fun!"

They'd never seen Jon look so uncomfortable in their entire time knowing him. When he swallowed and looked away again, Sasha felt a little bad for him. The poor guy was clearly out of his depth.

"Uhhhh... I do appreciate the offer, but.....I can't. I'm here- I'm here with some friends so...." He was edging slowly away from him, and eventually Tim got the message and let him go.

They said their goodbyes to Jon, wishing him luck with his friends, and continued on their way.

"D'you think he was telling the truth about his friends?" Asked Tim as he pushed a path through the crowd towards the small stage set up for the band. "He just doesn't seem the type to have......"

"Friends?" Sasha interrupted him abruptly. "I know he's not particularly likeable, but there's no need to be an arse, Tim."

"He's likeable!" Protested Martin. "I like him!" Upon realising what he'd said, the blondes freckled face turned bright red and he did an admirable job at explaining himself. Of course, Tim being Tim latched onto the comment and immediately began preparing his arsenal of jokes.

Fortunately for Martin, the stage hands had finished setting up the instruments, and the band was emerging. Set up around the stage, they took their places, leaving only a single microphone at the front of the stage- the lead was yet to make an appearance. 

"What are they called again?" Sasha lent over to Martin- It had been him who wanted them to see the band, some small group that broke up not long after he left university, doing a small get together show to raise some money by selling merch.

"The Mechanisms!" 

Sasha nodded and turned back to the stage. The lead still hadn't appeared. Was that strange? Maybe this was what they always did-

And then, with a shout and cheer and the sound of a gunshot, he was there, Jonny d'Ville himself, brandishing a fake gun and speaking confidently into the microphone.

"Killers and renegades, liars and thieves-"

All three of them stared at each other, recognising the voice, the same voice that stiffly gave instructions and handed out assignments with all the enthusiasm of a substitute teacher on their 40th year without an actual teaching job. 

It was Jon. Jon was Jonny d'Ville. Their boring, greying, allergic-to-fun boss was in a band of immortal space pirates. He was the LEAD SINGER in a band of immortal space pirates. 

All thoughts of Martin's little crush flew out of Tim's head in an instant, replaced with billions of quips and questions and probably few other things that start with a q. 

They could barely pay attention to the show because every word out of Jonny's mouth only served to further remind of who was playing this character. But like all things, tragically, it came to an end, and they returned to their regularly scheduled lives, burdened, or perhaps blessed, with this new knowledge about their mysterious head archivist.

* * *

"Good morning, Jon." 

Tim and his shit-eating grin arrived early for possibly the first time in his life, leaning 'casually' on the desk.

"Hello Tim."

"Got anything you'd like to tell me about yourself Jon? How are those friends of yours? How was  your  time at pride, Jonny?"

Jon, who'd been living on a prayer and faint hope that maybe, just maybe they hadn't recognised him, practically died on the spot. He put his head in his hands and groaned.

"I assume that you saw that, then?" 

"Oh, you bet your sweet, sweet, steampunk goggles we saw it. And it was amazing! Why didn't you tell us that you were that cool?" The delight and actual admiration in the taller mans voice was surprising, particularly to Jon. 

"You thought....you thought it was cool?" 

Despite his best efforts to maintain his professional monotone, a quiver of hope and faint apprehension crept into it. 

Jon was, in truth, a lonely man. Not necessarily a choice, but an unfortunate side effect of many years spent alone reading and avoiding the interactions he found so difficult. By the time he realised that he was never really sure what to say, or how to connect with anybody on real level, it was too late. After university and his relationship with Georgie ended, he'd 'accepted his fate' and lost the motivation to really try. But humans are pack animals by nature, and even the most prickly and awkward of them want somebody to care.

Sasha and Martin had arrived as well by now, and enthusiastically agreed with Tim's earlier comment about Jon and his apparent 'coolness'. 

It was odd, what happened next. Something in Jonathan Sims broke, or melted, and suddenly before he could stop it, he was crying quietly, fat tears rolling down his sharp cheeks. He wiped them away angrily, embarrassed at himself. 

Jon was even more shocked when he felt a light hand on his shoulder, and heard Martin's voice faintly asking him if he could hug him. Jon felt himself nod numbly and three pairs of warm arms wrapped around him. 

That was what did it, he would say later. That hug, the unquestioned support they offered him even after he'd shown time and time again that he didn't deserve or need it, that he didn't want it. That hug was what had forced him out of his lonely comfort zone. He didn't immediately become friends with them, of course, but in time he began saying yes to more invitations to after work drinks. Started sitting with them in the break room at lunch. Actually discussing cases with them in a civilised and conversational way. Communicating.

On one particularly memorable occasion, he sang for them, a performance that none of them were likely to forget. 

For the first time in a very long time, Jon had actual friends, and when statements started becoming more and more unnerving, he had people who cared. 

Jonathan Sims was meant to be a tragedy from the start, but maybe this time, he thinks, as he sits with his friends finding patterns in the horrors, and linking his pinky with Martins, he can rewrite the ending.


End file.
